


hush hush, we both can't fight it

by Macremae



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Fake Dating, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pre-Movie: Pacific Rim (2013), newt is so fucking stupid oh my god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22454953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macremae/pseuds/Macremae
Summary: It’s… weird. Once he stops glancing over his shoulder every few minutes to see if anyone’s watching, and hesitating before putting a hand on Hermann’s shoulder or arm, the motions of a genuine, actual date feel oddly natural. Like this is something they’ve been doing for years, and the only difference now is the name. Hell, Newt didn’t evenknowHermann’s eyelashes could have that effect on him until they were fluttered in a (faux, he reminds himself) flirtatious light. His stomach feels like its swooping, which he assumes is because of the alcohol until he realizes he’s only just finished off his first beer.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 5
Kudos: 99





	hush hush, we both can't fight it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [danimagus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/danimagus/gifts).



> FUCK THIS FIC GO READ MARY'S MOOMIN CROSSOVER AND JOIN MY CAMPAIGN TO PUT IT IN THE FUCKING MET. y'all know the drill @bae-science on tumblr @shakesexual on twt

“Hey, ‘scuse me?” Newt asks the woman behind the bar, leaning over to tap his finger once on the wood. She pauses in shaking a drink between the two halves of a rainbow metal mixer and nods. “Uh, sorry if this is a stupid question, but did I get the wrong address? My friend said this was, like, a gay bar, but I don’t really see any. Y’know. Guys here.”

Her eyebrows knit together, and she gives him a sympathetic little noise. “Oh, honey. It’s dyke night.”

Newt blinks. “Huh. Dyke night. Whoops.” He freezes. “Shitーwait, am I allowed to say that if it’s just the name?”

Beside him, Hermann snickers into his hand. “I’m so sorry,” he says to the bartender. “He was born with his foot lodged firmly in his mouth, and no one has been able to get it out so far.”

“Hey, you’re the one that made me ask in the first place; I take you out to some nice restaurant downtownー”

“You took me to a bar called _The Rainbow_ , Newton, this is not a five star establishment.”

“And I even get out my nice jeans just so you won’t be a grouch about itー”

“I can see three different Blue stains just in this lighting!”

“Dude, it isn’t my fault our old ramen place closed down because of health code violations! How was I supposed to know they never turned their CO detector on?”

The bartender sets the mixer down on her counter with a loud thunk! “So, not to intrude on your date night,” she begins, and they both make twin noises of alarm.

“Not a date!” Newt says quickly, feeling his face warm. “I mean, we’re both gayーwe’re not doing the weird straight tourist thing or anythingーbut we’re not, like, on a date.”

“Yes,” agrees Hermann, “this is an outing between colleagues.”

“At a gay bar,” she says flatly. She takes in Hermann’s sweater vest and DIY bowl cut, and Newt’s nearly latex-tight jeans, and blinks. “Okay. Sure. I’m Leo. What do you two want?”

“Whatever’s local you’ve got on tap,” says Newt, and Hermann makes a face.

“A gin and tonic, please,” he says. “And I’ll take the tab when we’re finished.”

Leo nods. “Okay. Tab to the top, then. Have ‘em out in a minute.”

Newt feels the irresistible urge to sink into a hole in the ground and die, especially when Hermann turns to him, an adorably confused look on his face, and asks, “Why on Earth did that woman call me a ‘top’? We did make it very clear we’re not in a relationship.”

“Who’s to say?” says Newt in a high, strangled voice, and he drums his fingers on the counter. “Right. Uh. I’m gonna. Go to the bathroom.”

He quickly slides off the barstool and picks his way through the crush of women (several of whom appear very confused as to why he’s among them) to the restroom, slamming the door behind him and taking advantage of the empty stalls to place his hands on the counter, knock his forehead against a mirror, and let out a long, frustrated whine. _Fuck_. This was _such_ a bad idea.

It hadn’t seemed that way at first. He and Hermann had both arrived at the end of a long, exhaustingly busy week (a Kaiju attack, a funding tour for some government officials, _and_ a minor crisis involving Crimson Typhoon’s arm randomly catching on fire), and Newt had decided that what they both needed was a break from work, and alcohol, in about that order. The Rainbow was a nice little bar that Newt had always found pretty welcoming, and he knew Hermann didn’t often get the option of talking about his personal life in public, so he had imagined it would be fun to show him the place.

The first issue was, of course, that he had completely forgoten the assumption most intelligent people tended to make when two guys walked into a gay bar together and immediately started bickering like, as Tendo had often put it, “an old married couple”. 

The other issue was that Newt really, _really_ didn’t mind it. In a reality where he’d never have even a snowball’s chance with Hermann, it was nice to live in the five second fantasy each time they were mistaken for each others’ partners. Even if the truth always came rushing back into focus every time Hermann was insulted by the assumption.

He runs a wet, shaking hand through his hair and pushes his weight off the counter, then opens the door and steps back out into the bar, weaving back among the crowd to their seats. It’s chill. He’s cool. Guys night out! What could go wroーoh God there’s a woman accosting Hermann.

There’s a woman accosting Hermann; she’s slim, blonde with some darker roots showing, and wearing a glittery pink tank top that reads “Accomplice to the Jailer” that barely covers the tribal tattoo on her lower stomach. Her body language practically _screams_ “look at my expertly done Kylie Jenner lip kit”. There’s a pendant around her neck that says “Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust!”. 

“It’s definitely weird we haven’t found any fun gay guys to party with yet,” Newt hears her saying to a supremely confused-looking Hermann, “because, I mean, why else would you do a bachalorette party at a gay bar? But there’s just a bunch of lesbians, and I’m pretty sure I’ve caught at least half of them staring at my boobs.”

Hermann blinks. “Well, yes. This is a place where people under the acronym tend to gather. Are you having trouble finding someone who’s yourーahーtype?”

The woman gets a look like he just suggested she go off Keto. “Oh my _God_ no, I’m not a dyke, oh my God.”

Hermann gives her what Newt knows is his strained attempt at a pleasant smile. “Well, then you were certainly mistaken. You certainly appear obviously heterosexual, and I highly doubt any woman here would reserve effort for someone she knows isn’t interested.”

“No, sis, you don’t get it,” she presses on, and Hermann makes a micro-expression at being called “sis” that tells Newt he’d better walk faster. “I _know_ I’m hot, so obviously gay girls are attracted to me.”

“That’s a logical fallacy,” says Hermann. Newt breaks into a half-run.

“Hey, uh, Hermann!” he says cheerily, skidding to a halt in front of his stool. “I’m back. Clearly. Tada.”

The woman looks at Newt as if he’s far more the kind of guy she’s looking for here. “Oh hi! I’m Kayleigh. You must beー”

“ _Dr. Gottlieb’s_ boyfriend,” Newt says without thinking, only just realizing after he does that he _may_ have skipped his meds this morning. Okay. Dig in deeper, then. “Call me Newt. Nice to meet you.” He climbs back onto the stool and takes Hermann’s hand. “If you don’t mind, though, we are kinda doing date night tonight, so…”

In what could possibly be considered an act of God, Kayleigh takes the hint and smiles unsettlingly wide. “Oh that is so sweet! You two let us know if you want to hang out with me and the girls, okurr?”

Newt fixes her with his deadest, most devoid of human emotion stare, and says flatly, “Yas, queen.”

She gives them both a little wave and leaves to rejoin “the girls”, and Newt lets out a long, shaky breath. “Jesus _Christ_ we need a straight plague.”

Hermann doesn’t say anything in response, and Newt turns to see him staring down at their still-clasped hands. Newt quickly lets go and slams his own down into his lap. “Uh, sorry about that by the way, I didn’t reallyーuhー know what else to say?”

Hermann gives him a strange, loaded look Newt can’t quite decipher. “Er, that’s alright,” he says. “However, I suppose we will have to keep up the act as long as we’re here if we want some privacy.”

Newt winces. “Shit, I didn’t think of that. We can just go home if you’d rather notー”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Newton.” He takes the drink that Leo had apparently brought while Newt was panicking in the men’s room and slides it over to him. “We’ve earned ourselves a night out and I intend to enjoy it. Some rude young woman with no concept of tact is not going to ruin that for me. Now try your drink, then tell me if that article you read last week about Kaiju glucose management was any good.”

Newt didn’t earn six PhDs before he was thirty off of dumb luck. He takes the out, gulps down some of his beer, then launches into an explanation of the continuing mystery of Kaiju diets.

It’s… weird. Once he stops glancing over his shoulder every few minutes to see if anyone’s watching, and hesitating before putting a hand on Hermann’s shoulder or arm, the motions of a genuine, actual date feel oddly natural. Like this is something they’ve been doing for years, and the only difference now is the name. Hell, Newt didn’t even _know_ Hermann’s eyelashes could have that effect on him until they were fluttered in a (faux, he reminds himself) flirtatious light. His stomach feels like its swooping, which he assumes is because of the alcohol until he realizes he’s only just finished off his first beer.

Then, because the night is actually going really well now, and if Newt finds himself with luck it’s natural law that he has to push it, he fucks everything up.

The beat of a fun, bouncing song comes in through the bar speakers, and Newt lights up. “Herms,” he says excitedly, “dude, I used to play this song all the time back in grad school!”

“Which time?” Hermann asks sarcastically, but the expression slips into one of alarm as Newt hops down to the floor and grabs his hands. “Whatー What are you doing?”

Newt pulls Hermann’s arms back and forth and swings the stool in time to his own dancing, smiling wide. “I’m giving you the ol’ razzle dazzle,” he says. Hermann rolls his eyes.

“No, you’re making a fool of yourself. For God’s sake, Newton, you’re thirty three, not sixteen.”

“Sixteen’s a fun age, though. I wish I’d known you then,” he replies, swinging a little more absentmindedly. 

“Believe me, you don’t,” Hermann says, shaking his head but poorly hiding a smile. Newt’s own goes a little crooked.

“Nah. I really do.”

Something shifts in Hermann’s eyes at this, those warm brown little pieces of home darting over Newt’s face, then down to his hands, then back up, it almost looks like, to his mouth. Newt can’t help but follow the motion, and despite himself, he takes a step closer. Then another. He’s still holding Hermann’s hands.

The kiss (if one could call Newt clumsily smashing his lips against Hermann’s tightly closed ones) lasts for all of three seconds before Newt’s common sense kicks in, and he reels back and drops Hermann’s hands as if he’s been burned.

“Fuck,” he says, not sure if he’s audible over the background noise of the bar but too trapped in fight or flight to care. “Oh fuck, why did IーGod, I’m sorryー”

He can’t think of anything else to say, tongue going limp and useless in his mouth, so he turns and pushes through to the door, away from Hermann’s shocked, white face, and the shouting that was sure to follow if he’d stayed a moment longer.

September is already chilly in Hong Kong, and when Newt steps out into the night after the cramped heat of the bar, he feels the shock right away. The people walking past give him some odd looks as he leans against the brick, scrubbing his face with his hands, but he’s got bigger problems now. Mainly, that he just kissed his lab partner slash best friend (?) and has _no_ idea how to explain it in a way that a) doesn’t get his head bitten off and b) lets him keep his job.

Newt lets out a hoarse groan and pushes his glasses back into place. He is _so_ fucked, and he is _so_ stupid, and he is _so_ ー

“Newton!”

Yeah, essentially. 

Gritting his teeth and steeling himself, Newt looks up to see Hermann stepping outside and walking towards him. “Oh boy,” he says in a voice that makes him cringe internally, “you found me.”

“You’re not a few meters from the door,” Hermann says. “Are you alright?”

That… doesn’t really compute. “Uh,” says Newt, making a valid argument for a seventh PhD in linguistics. “Yes?”

“Typically not a statement you answer with another question,” says Hermann. “You look like someone slapped you.”

“I assumed you were going to, yeah.” Hermann looks taken aback.

“Youーwhy on Earth would I do that?”

Newt stares at him, not sure where this is going. “Uh, because I kーkissed you completely out of nowhere, despite and adding onto the fact that you would never actually want me to do that?”

Hermann gives him that _look_ again, like he’s just one corner piece away from figuring Newt out, but the box is missing. “And your evidence for that?”

“Itemized or alphabetical?” Newt says, hating how pathetic he sounds. He digs his nails into his palms. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? IーI got caught up in the moment, you know I always do that, but I promise I’ll be chill about it and it’ll never happen again and even, if you want me to, I’ll transfer toーI dunno, there’s gotta be one other Shatterdome that’s still open I couldー”

Newt doesn’t get to hypothesize about the feasibility of that transfer request, because at that point Hermann seems to decide he’s done hearing him ramble and grabs him by his (iguana patterned) tie, pulls him up on his toes, and kisses him like he’s finally realized it’s the key to shutting Newt up for good.

What does one even fucking _do_ in this situation? Newt’s no fool. He lets himself fall against Hermann a little, cups a hand along his jaw, and gathers a second set of data on Proven Hypothesis: kissing Hermann Gottlieb is _awesome_.

“If one of those bachelorettes gets that on video, I’m personally deleting Facebook,” Newt says a little woozily once Hermann (yowza!) lets him come up for air. Hermann himself huffs out just the cutest little laugh.

“You are a menace to society and a curse to know, Newton,” he says, and Newt gives him a light smack on the chest.

“I am a shining light in this cruel world, you dickhead. Now put your tongue back in my mouth.”

Hermann grumbles something about public displays of affection, but then Newt kisses his nose, and his forehead, and finally his lips, because Newt Geiszler has _always_ been the exception to the rule.


End file.
